


Can't Lose Him

by Bozleigh



Series: Two Halves [1]
Category: Captain America (1944), Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s, First Aid, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nudity, Unrequited Crush, kindof, mention of needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11517171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bozleigh/pseuds/Bozleigh
Summary: Bucky comes home hurt from working at the docks and Steve realizes just how close he came to losing his best friend.





	Can't Lose Him

Steve held the photo of his father with delicate fingers. Steve always thought he looked more like his father than his mother. Same nose, chin. In some lights, he could swear the black and white photo’s eyes even shone blue. Not the hair though. Short tufts of brown hair stuck out from under the military issued cap.

“Hello Pa. I got denied again today. 4F.” Steve paused. He traced an index finger across the rows of medals lining his father’s lapel. “I’m trying again in New Jersey tomorrow. I’ll make you proud. Don’t you worry.” He put the picture back on the shelf and looked at it for a moment longer before turning around. 

“And where were you from today, huh Steve-o?” Bucky was leaning against the front door frame looking filthy and exhausted. Working at the docks did that. He had a cut on his forehead trailing blood down his cheek. It looked like if he blinked too hard, the blood might stain the white of his eye. His white tank top was smudged with black oil. Steve dragged his eyes down Bucky’s body slowly before finding his eyes again. He looked angry.

“Steve. Answer the question. Where did you try to end your life today?” Yeah. Bucky was angry.

“Hey I don’t listen in on when you talk to your picture of Becca, ok, so don’t comment when I talk to my parents.” He dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Family talk is private.” Bucky’s face softened at that. They stood there across the room from each other for a long minute, Steve refusing to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“You’re right. I’m sorry Steve. But Steve?” Bucky waited until Steve looked up at him, face unreadable. He gestured around the room. “Nothin’ can possibly be private in a one room apartment, pal.” Steve broke into a smile, followed closely by Bucky. “Now get over here and patch me up, you know I aint no good with blood.” Steve scratched his neck and nodded, crossing the room to fish around under the sink for a clean rag and the sewing kit while Bucky eased down in one of the chairs to toe his boots off, and kick them toward the door. 

“So what’s with the scratch, huh? I swear you get hurt more often than I do working down there.” Steve asked while he turned on the stove to sterilize the needle. 

“Mickey Boone was a real pain in the ass today. Let go of his chain three times before bossman sent him home. The first two times no one was hurt, but the third time the load swung down and caught me square in the chest, knocked the wind right outa me. Cut myself on a pipe going down…” He trailed off as he pulled his shirt off and looked at the purple spots starting to bloom down his torso.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Steve breathed, holding the rag in one hand and the needle and thread in another. “Buck that doesn’t look good. Don't it hurt?” 

“Aw quit your worrying, Ma. It aint nothin’. Just a bit of color for my pale skin, eh?” Bucky tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. Steve’s eyes were locked on Bucky’s body. The bruise looked bad. He turned and clicked the stove off.

“You’re gonna need vinegar, Buck. And a lot of it. Go on into the bath and clean up. Ill stitch you up when you’re out.” Steve set the rag and needle on the counter and walked out of the apartment, and on upstairs to Mrs. Jones’ place to borrow some vinegar.

Bucky didn’t move. His chest really did hurt, more and more every minute. Damn Micky and his butterfingers. So Bucky sat at the table in nothing but his work pants starting to strain his breath a little. Sucking in a full lungful of air hurt too damn much. He waited for Steve to return. Steve could help him into the bath without moving too much. So Bucky sat. And waited for Steve. 

 

Steve returned with the jug of vinegar and a very generous two painkillers to find an almost asleep Bucky sitting at the counter.  
“Hey Buck. Kinda missing the point of a bath.” He walked over and slowly draped Bucky’s arm over his shoulders and helped him to stand.

“No you are.” Bucky mumbled, incoherently. “Hurts.”

“Yeah I know, Buck. I know.” Steve gave him one of the pills to dry-swallow, then half helped half carried Bucky into the small bathroom and sat him on the toilet. He turned around and busied himself turning the water on. “Strip Bucky, can’t wash while wearing pants.”

“Don’t I get dinner first Stevie?” He held out his hands in a grabbing motion as if asking Steve to come closer. Steve looked and him and rolled his eyes. He could feel his neck heating up at the words and chose to ignore it. 

“Sure thing Buck, I’ll buy you anything you like. Steak, fresh fruit, how bout some real wine?” Bucky shimmied out of his pants and hummed softly as Steve turned back to the tub to test the water. Steve kept going. “Lobster, at a real fancy restaurant over on Staten Island. How’s that sound?” Satisfied with the level of the tub, Steve shut off the taps and turned to face Bucky. 

“Mm. Sounds like you’re tryna spoil me Steve. It must be my lucky day. Dinner and a show with my best guy…” Bucky tried to stand up but brought a hand to his chest with a groan. Steve reached down and helped him to stand. The size of the bathroom and the proximity of toilet to tub put Steve in a rather awkward position, and he found himself rather squished under Bucky’s arm staring straight down at where Bucky had recently made himself nude. Not that Steve had never seen Bucky nude before, (as living in a one room apartment will do that, and they’d known each other for nearly a decade) but Steve had never really taken the time to appreciate what it was he got to look at. To put it quite simply, Bucky was fascinating to Steve. His piece was longer than Steve’s and he had bits of muscle lining his chest with much more popping out around his thighs. His body had shape to it. Not that this was new information to Steve, but this was the first time he had been so close to a body that really looked like, well, a body. He thought his own vaguely resembled a flat box sitting on two rectangles. He must have been staring for too long because Bucky interrupted his thoughts.

“You lookin at my john, Steve?” Bucky asked quietly. There was something behind his voice that Steve couldn't quite place. It was meant to be a joke on the surface but it was laden with something deeper. Again, Steve chose to ignore the flush that painted his cheeks.

“Don’t be crude Buck, you’re just awkward to hold up from this angle. You gonna step into the tub anytime soon?” Steve knows he should have joked back, but nothing came to mind quick enough. And after a beat, Bucky stepped slowly into the tub, and let Steve ease him down from the back. 

 

The bath passed smoothly, both boys silent as Steve scrubbed the oil and blood from Bucky’s body, passing gently across his torso, and paying special attention to the cut on his head. When Bucky’s skin was cleaner than the color of the water, Steve helped him up, being sure to look anywhere but below his torso, and wrapped him in a towel.

“Can you dress yourself? Or you need help with that too?” Steve tried to make his voice sound light.

Bucky was quiet as he walked ahead of Steve out into the main room of the apartment toward his small chest of drawers. As slow as he could, he bent over and pulled on boxer briefs, the fall weather still just warm enough to still wear less clothing at night. Steve drained the tub, then helped him lie on his back on his cot against the wall.

“Alright. Sutures, vinegar, then sleep.” Steve said aloud. Mostly for his own befit but Bucky still asked.  
“Sutures? What, you talking like a doctor now? Dr. Steve. Hey maybe you could diagnose yourself then and fix all your body problems, ey Steve-o?” Bucky said it as a joke, but Steve stayed quiet as he re-lit the stove and heated the needle again. After a beat, Bucky realized his mistake.

“Aw, Steve you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t like seeing you sick is all.” Steve nodded, then realizing Bucky couldn’t see him he spoke.

“I know Buck. But I’ve been this way nearly 20 years. Not stopping anytime soon.” He shut off the stove and brought everything back to the cot with him; a few rags, the needle and thread, and the vinegar. “Now hush up and don’t move. This is going to hurt.” Bucky closed his eyes and kept silent as Steve began to stitch. His fingers shook slightly, as they always did, but they were long, quick, and nimble, so he finished fairly quickly. He looked at the seven X shaped stitches lining Bucky’s head and for the first time since he walked in, Steve realized how close he came to losing his friend today. Work at the docks unloading the ships was dangerous work. And the bruise on his chest was big enough for Steve to see it would have killed him, had he stood in Bucky’s place. What if the metal was an inch or two to the side? It could’ve gone through his head instead of grazed it. Steve thought back to the three or four injuries Bucky had come home with over the past few months of working at the docks, realizing just how close those could have been too. Without thinking about it, Steve leaned down and pressed his lips to the stitches. 

Bucky’s eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling. Steve pulled back slowly after a moment, and it took him another beat to realize just what he had done. Both boys stayed perfectly still for a full minute breathing silently, Bucky staring at the ceiling, and Steve staring at Bucky. Steve was the first to move, scooting his chair down to his chest and beginning to soak the rags in Vinegar.

“Steve-” Bucky started, but he was cut off.

“You never finished your story, what happened after you cut your head? Did the boss send you home? You’re never home before sunset, you’re early today.” Steve said it all in one breath and refused to look up at Bucky’s face. Just kept soaking the rags and laying them across the bruised flesh. 

“Okay.” Bucky conceded after a moment of silence. “Okay. First bossman sent Mickey home. Right away. I tried to stand up and go back to work-” Steve tutted under his breath. “-and after about a half an hour, bossman sent me home. I guess I was bleeding too much.” Bucky got quiet after that. Just let Steve lay the rags on him. 

“You nearly died, Buck.” Steve did his best to keep his voice even, and wouldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes. “Sleep now. That pain pill won’t last long and this purple will only get worse. I’ll run down to the docks in the morning. See if they’ll keep your job for a week.”

“Hey, Steve. I’m fine.” Steve made to get up but Bucky caught his arm. “I promise you. I’m fine.” Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand. “Look at me.” Steve waited for a moment before doing so. “I’m fine.” Steve said nothing. He left Bucky laying covered in vinegar with stitches on his head. And once Bucky was asleep, Steve took out his mother's old bible. And he prayed.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Vinegar trick is an old wives tale to help get rid of bruises faster. 
> 
> Please let me know if i've missed any tags or triggers or squicks. And this is my first ever fic, and it is un-beta'd so while I would love comments and constructive criticism, please try to be nice :)


End file.
